


bets off

by marleystcyr



Category: P - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marleystcyr/pseuds/marleystcyr





	bets off

Title: Bets Off  
Author: jzbell 

Pairing: Brendon/Ryan  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: "I know you guys are taking bets on me and Brendon," Ryan said, "and I want in."  
Disclaimer: This is not real. Most of it takes place in the future anyway, so if it were real, that would be really weird.  
Notes: A slightly different take on what has, understandably, become something of a cliche for this fandom. Shippy, cheesy, and completely self-indulgent. You have been warned. 

 

"I want in." 

Spencer glanced up at Ryan. "What?" 

"I want in," Ryan repeated. "I know you guys are taking bets on me and Brendon, and I want in." 

Jon looked over. "You--" 

"You can't bet on yourself," Spencer said. "That's totally cheating." 

"It's not cheating," Ryan said. "I won't cheat. I won't have to. I know Brendon's going to get sick of me or sleep with someone or dump me or something lame like that, and so I want in." He was totally telling the truth. After Keltie had cheated on him and then broken up with him--with him, like he had done something wrong--he had decided he just had terrible luck or taste or something and was better off alone. He'd all but given up, resigning himself to his spinsterhood. 

Except then Brendon had swooped in to console him, and his method of consoling involved a lot of snuggling and then a little groping and some making out, followed by his big, stupid puppy dog eyes and, somehow, Ryan asking him to fuck him. Ryan asking him. 

Ryan still wasn't sure how that had happened. 

The point, though, was that it had (because of course Brendon had said yes), and that it wasn't going to last. Ryan knew it. Not with Ryan's luck in love and Brendon's attention span, and so why not get his money in the pool? 

"Um," Spencer said. 

"Okay," Jon said. Spencer looked at him. "What? Honor system, right? I say we take him on his word. What do we have to lose?" 

"Only, oh, two hundred bucks." 

"Still." 

Spencer turned back to Ryan, eyeing him suspiciously, but eventually he sighed. "Fine. What's your bet?" 

"Two weeks." 

"That's it?" 

Ryan shrugged. He'd seen Brendon lose interest in porn after two minutes. He had faith. Or a complete lack of it, something. He was just being realistic. "Why? What'd you guys bet on?" 

Spencer didn't answer, so Jon spoke up. "Spence gave you a month, I said forty days." Then he added, "You went to Catholic school," like that explained his choice or something. Ryan thought it kind of did, actually. 

"Zack bet on the rest of the summer," Spencer told him. 

"Zack's kind of an optimist," Ryan commented. 

"Not as much of an optimist as Pete," Jon said. 

"Pete? An optimist? What did he bet?" 

"If you're still together when the album drops, he wins the pot." 

"That's-- wow." 

"I know. I mean, hell, we might not even finish the album. What if you and Brendon are too busy fucking all the time to write the rest of the songs, and then what if you do break up, and then you can't work together to write the rest of the songs and we can't record and our story won't even take up a whole hour on VH1?" 

Spencer was maybe a little worried about the whole situation, Ryan knew. 

"Spence, seriously. I promise, we'll finish the album, don't worry. Me and Brendon just won't be fucking the whole time." 

Spencer cringed. Ryan figured it was because he explicitly mentioned fucking Brendon, because he also knew that weirded him out quite a bit. Hell, that weirded Ryan out, when he thought about it. 

* 

Two weeks later, Ryan was lying in his bed at Pete's house in L.A. Well, his and Brendon's bed, as Brendon was currently curled up next to him, one hand pressing chords into his ribs as he hummed what, as far as Ryan could tell, was "Honorable Mention." 

Ryan was truly and honestly surprised. They were in L.A. to record, immersed in a teeming pool of scene queens and party girls, celebrities, pseudo-celebrities and internet celebrities, and every last one of them had a much nicer rack than Ryan. 

But after two weeks, the only thing that had wandered had been Brendon's eyes and, let's face it, Ryan had been looking too. 

"I can be your John Cusack," Brendon muttered sleepily into Ryan's shoulder. 

"Um," Ryan said. 

He was considering cheating. On the bet, that is; he knew he could just, like, get up and leave, and he would win the money. Pitch a fit. Tell Spencer and Jon that he couldn't stand Brendon anymore, that he was too much of a tool, too clingy, too much of a guy, too bad at sex. It wasn't like they could prove anything. 

Brendon switched suddenly to Peter Gabriel, the connection making sense in his mind and also, somehow, in Ryan's. He was singing in earnest now, breath puffing against Ryan's skin as he tugged him closer. It felt nice, Ryan had to admit. It felt more than nice... was there a word for nice but times, like, ten? He couldn't really remember, because Brendon was so warm, soft skin, and there was also the faint hum between his legs of Brendon fucking him hard twice earlier. 

No, three times. 

No, no, twice. The second time he'd just blown him, and then he'd fucked him again. It had been a pretty successful evening. 

"I am compleeeete, in your eyes..." 

Ryan's heartbeat was suddenly feeling a little off in his chest, but he put it down to Brendon's arm heavy across his torso. 

Ryan sighed. Yeah, he was totally out two hundred bucks. 

But on the bright side... 

He squirmed a little closer and could hear the smile in Brendon's voice. 

On the bright side... 

Ryan bit his lip and Brendon kept on singing. 

* 

Spencer wasn't very happy when a month passed and Ryan and Brendon were still holding hands when they watched dvds at night. For one thing, he told Ryan grumpily, two of his best friends wouldn't stop holding hands in front of him, and they didn't just hold hands like normal people, either, oh no. Brendon had to get his fingertips in and tickle Ryan's palm, stroking his thumb over his knuckles and all sorts of annoying things that Spencer was sure felt nice but could only accurately be described as "fondling" and that was just not anything he wanted to be witnessing firsthand. 

And for another thing, there was that time or two or six (all Brendon's fault, Ryan maintained, because he didn't get off on public sex, but Spencer hadn't appreciated that explanation either) that Spencer had come into the room to find them somewhere between making out and full-on assfucking. 

Also he just lost two hundred dollars. 

"I tried to make it up to him by watching a movie without Brendon," Ryan told Jon a week and a half later, when Jon had also lost the bet and come to congratulate him, weirdly enough. 

"Yeah, how'd that go?" 

"Brendon found us and jumped on me." 

"Thought so." 

Ryan turned to look at Jon. "You just lost two hundred bucks too. Why aren't you mad?" 

Jon shrugged. "Why should I be mad that you guys are actually happy? Weird as it may be. I mean, Brendon smiles more than ever, which is kind of amazing, since he pretty much smiled a lot anyway. The new music is sounding great, and the extra lyrics you've been writing off-the-cuff are even better than some of the stuff we did in the cabin, perfect for us and the album, for Brendon." 

Ryan didn't quite know what he was supposed to say. 

Jon's eyes were soft. He looked like he understood anyway. "I've seen you smiling, too." 

"Shut up," Ryan said, but he felt his face going hot and was completely unable to do anything about it. 

* 

Backstage in Seattle, Ryan walked in on Zack teasing Spencer about whether or not he could continue to wear his white sneakers after Labor Day (Spencer maintained that sneakers were exempt, but Zack refused to drop it). Zack glanced over at Ryan with a grin right as Brendon came in behind, slipping an arm around Ryan's waist and squeezing. 

"Whoa," Zack said. "Shit." 

"What?" Ryan asked. 

"Summer's kind of over," Brendon told the side of his neck. "He didn't win the bet, either." 

Ryan was so distracted by Brendon's mouth against his skin that he didn't think to ask Brendon how he knew about the bet until later, when they were naked in bed together. 

"I knew from the start," Brendon said with a shrug. 

"Did you bet?" 

"On us?" Brendon asked. "No." 

"Oh," Ryan said, feeling a little bad all of a sudden. He wondered if Brendon knew he did. He wondered if Brendon knew he'd only given them two weeks. Brendon kissed his shoulder, and then moved down his back, lips and tongue and teeth tracing a path all the way to his ass. 

"I did," Ryan admitted quietly, without realizing he would. 

"I know. Jon told me," Brendon said, palming one of Ryan's ass cheeks as he gently kissed the other. 

"Brendon," Ryan started, because he knew he should probably say something, like about how he was surprised Brendon wasn't sick of him, how he wasn't sick of Brendon, still wasn't quite used to this, to Brendon's nimble fingers and tireless mouth, not used to it and definitely not bored of it. How even though Brendon knew exactly what to do to make him squirm it somehow never got old, still didn't feel stale or dull or any of a million other synonyms that boiled down to the same thing. How he sometimes found himself wondering just how long a honeymoon period could last, and wondering whether Brendon would be a dork and say "forever," if he asked; wondering if that would really be his answer. 

Mostly, Ryan thought as Brendon turned his body and angled his head in to lick right between his cheeks, getting him wet with his tongue and then pressing a finger up inside, mostly he felt like he should say something about how he'd been wrong. 

He opened his mouth but instead of an apology all that came out was, "please," low and slightly strangled, "don't stop, please, just--" and Brendon whispered, "yeah, okay," pulling away and crawling up Ryan's back, lining up and pushing himself in. 

Yes, god, that felt nice. It felt more than nice, Brendon above him, inside him, Brendon. "Yes," Ryan breathed, rocking back, faster, thinking vaguely that he'd been getting laid more often and more thoroughly than he ever, ever had with a girlfriend, and he was okay with that. "Yes," yes, he'd been wrong, this felt so, so right. 

Brendon ground in deep and Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, moaning into the pillow. 

"I'm sorry," he gasped out, sudden. "I'm sorry, Brendon, I--" 

"I know," Brendon said, thrusting up again as he interrupted. He kissed Ryan's back, lips on his spine, and Ryan shivered hard, twisting and reaching behind himself, trying to bring Brendon around for a kiss. Brendon pushed all the way in and stretched up until Ryan could grab the back of his skull and pull, leaning down and forcing their mouths together.

Ryan came with a whine, shuddering as his hips rolled through it, rough against the bedsheets, and felt himself going weak in Brendon's hands. Brendon clutched his waist and followed just seconds later, jolting behind him and gasping his name. 

After he pulled out, Brendon rolled Ryan onto his side and kissed him again, warm and deep. 

"Brendon," Ryan whispered against his mouth, "I--" 

"I know," Brendon said. 

* 

There was a release party when the album dropped, consisting mainly of Pete Wentz and Everyone He Knew Ever. No one could say for sure how the album would do, but Pete was very adamant that he liked it, and Pete was usually weirdly right about such things. 

Partway through the evening, Pete managed to corner Brendon and Ryan, grinning. Someone had given Brendon a drink but he was actually mostly ignoring it in favor of following Ryan around, leaning in close and licking him stealthily whenever he got the chance. 

"I think someone owes me a shitload of money," Pete said. 

So maybe the licking wasn't all that stealthy. 

"You'll have to get it from Spencer," Ryan told him. "I gave mine to him for safe keeping." 

"Because he so would have gambled it away, otherwise," Brendon said, and he oofed when Ryan elbowed him lightly. He didn't stop grinning, though. "Just be glad I didn't bet," Brendon said, resting his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "I would have kicked your ass, Wentz." 

"What would you have bet?" Ryan asked him, tilting his head awkwardly to try to see Brendon's face. 

"Forever," Brendon said decisively, tightening his arms around Ryan's middle. Ryan shook his head, flushing as he bit back his smile. Yeah, Brendon was a complete dork. 

Pete laughed. "Spence wouldn't let you bet on forever, huh?" 

"Nope," Brendon said. "He said it wasn't practical. He said we'd never know who won and who-- no one would ever get the money." 

Ryan shook his head again, but he wouldn't put such a conversation past either of them. 

"You're kind of an optimist," Pete said. 

"I'm a romantic," Brendon declared. 

"You're an idiot," Ryan piped up. 

"Shut up, you love me," Brendon told him. 

"I still think you're an idiot," Ryan said, and then winced at Brendon's loud, triumphant, "Ha!" 

Pete laughed at them some more. "I'm going to go find my money. You kids be good. And if you can't be good, name it after me!" 

With that, he turned and left. Ryan raised his eyebrows and Brendon chuckled warmly next to him, both of them watching Pete disappear into the throng of label people and industry people and just people. 

"Come on, let's go find Spence and laugh at him for losing his money." 

"I lost my money too, you know." 

"Haha," Brendon said with a wide smile. 

"Funny," Ryan said. 

"Dude, you spend more than two hundred on, like, a shirt. This time you got me. That's totally a good deal." 

"You do realize what that implies, right?" 

"Shut up, Ross." Brendon said, but he was grinning and Ryan couldn't help grinning back. 

"Spence will totally kick your ass for laughing at him," Ryan said as Brendon nudged him forward. 

"Twenty bucks says I can evade him," Brendon said.

Ryan laughed. "You're on."


End file.
